Signs of Devotion
by PurpleFairy84
Summary: (Johnlock) Lestrade and Donovan visit 221b late at night for a case and begin to witness unusual signs of devotion in the detective...
1. Chapter 1

"Why does he never answer the bloody door!" Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade bit out through chattering teeth. He and Sally Donovan were stood on the doorstep to 221b Baker Street late at night and in the frigid weather that had descended upon London for the last two days.

Sally was about to press the doorbell for the sixth time when she halted "Wait… I can hear footsteps!"

The door was unbolted and Mrs Hudson's long suffering face appeared before them "Oh dear, have you two been out here long?"

"We have, yes. Sherlock's not answering the door… again. May we come in?" Greg enquired, hopping about from foot to foot in an attempt to keep warm.

"Yes of course dear." She stepped aside to allow them entrance." You know, I found the doorbell in the fridge the other day. Apparently he put it in there because 'it kept ringing'. Such a funny man, makes no sense at all to me most of the time. He does the strangest things in that flat. Why just yesterday…"

"Yes, thank you for letting us in Mrs Hudson. We have an important case to solve so we'll just go on up." Greg interrupted Sherlock's chatty landlady for fear that she might keep them on the staircase for hours.

Greg and Sally hastily made their way upstairs and upon finding the door to Sherlock and John's flat open, they let themselves in. Sherlock was lying on the sofa in his pyjamas and robe, arranged in his usual pose with his hands pressed together in front of his face, eyes shut, not acknowledging them in the slightest.

Greg leaned in to whisper in Sally's ear "He's in his mind palace".

Sally Donovan rolled her eyes and watched as Greg silently approached the prone detective before shouting "Sherlock!" in his face.

To his credit Sherlock didn't jump as expected but simply cracked one eye open lazily at the Detective Inspector. "Not today" He mumbled and shut his eye again.

Greg turned to look at Sally who had her mouth open and hands out as if to say 'why do you even bother with him?'

"What are you doing that's so important?" Greg demanded.

"I'm busy." was Sherlock's short and petulant reply.

"With what? You appear to be lounging around in your pyjamas." Greg's irritation was mounting rapidly.

"Not interested. Thanks for stopping by."

Greg decided to ignore the dismissal "Sherlock, we need your help, a man has…"

"I said… not today Lestrade!" Sherlock rose off the sofa, stepped over the table and stomped in to the kitchen. Greg and Sally could hear him turn the kettle on and set about making some tea.

DI Lestrade sighed in frustration before following him "Listen Sherlock, we don't have time for your tantrums. A man has been abducted and those responsible have left a variety of strange and interesting clues for us to follow, almost like they want to play a game of hide and seek with us. It's right up your street."

Sherlock paused his tea making and Greg could see that his interest had been piqued. "That's got to be a 7 at least, surely?" the DI asked hopefully.

Sally and Greg watched as Sherlock showed uncharacteristic hesitation before answering "Yes, fine. Lay any information and clues out in the front room and I will take a look at them in a minute."

"Thank you!" Greg said appreciatively and motioned for Sally to follow him in to the front room to get started, leaving Sherlock free to finish making the cup of tea and disappear upstairs for a few minutes.

As soon as he re-emerged, Sherlock studied the evidence with great enthusiasm, becoming lost in the pile of paperwork and photos which he had started arranging all over the floor.

15 minutes passed and several links and new deductions had already been made. Unfortunately the mood in the flat descended in to hostility as Sherlock began expounding upon Sally Donovan's personal inadequacies and failures as a sergeant. Once again Greg found himself acting as peacemaker between the two, rather than focussing on the case.

Sally was shouting "You are such a…"

"Oh come on… try to get this in to that vacuous cavern where your brain should be…"

Sherlock stopped when heavy footsteps could be heard coming down from upstairs. All three looked up to witness a very rumpled and bleary-eyed Doctor Watson making his way unsteadily towards the kitchen.

"John, go back to bed." Sherlock called out in a commanding tone.

The doctor appeared to ignore him and carried on blundering his way around the flat.

Greg took in his friend's appearance, observing his flushed face, sweaty forehead, glazed eyes and staggering gait. "Mate you look terrible. Is everything ok?"

Still no response from John so Sherlock and Greg leapt up to follow him in to the kitchen.

"John what are you doing?" Sherlock enquired with more volume than was really necessary.

John turned to face them, dropping a mug on to the hard floor as he did so. The mug shattered loudly and pieces scattered far and wide, leaving John looking shaken.

Sherlock rushed to his friend's side, taking his arm and guiding him around the sharp remains. He pulled out a chair for the distressed doctor and addressed him softly "Sit down here a minute. What is it you need John?"

"I'm er… sorry 'bout that. Um… I'll clear up the mess…"

"No it's fine John, what were you trying to get? Sherlock crouched down so that he was at eye level with his sick friend and placed a comforting hand on his arm.

"Um… I… um…" John mumbled and looked around the kitchen as if he'd forgotten where he was. "Tea… I was going to make tea."

"I've already made you one, it's on your bedside table." John looked blank. "I brought it up a quarter of an hour ago." Sherlock tried to jog his memory.

"Oh sorry, didn't realise." John managed before swaying so violently he would have toppled off his chair if his flatmate hadn't caught and stabilised him so quickly.

"What's wrong with him?" Sally asked from the doorway, watching as Greg and Sherlock took hold of an arm each to prop the sick man up.

"His work colleagues believe that he's caught a virus which has been doing the rounds at the surgery." Sherlock informed them whilst taking the doctor's pulse. "He'll be fine, he just needs to rest." The detective looked pointedly at his friend.

"So this is why you wouldn't come to Scotland Yard…" Greg sighed "Why didn't you just say that John was sick?"

"As if he would refuse a case just because his flatmate had a virus… no he's just being difficult as usual!" Sally interjected. "Don't let him pull the wool over your eyes, he doesn't really care, he's just a good actor. Freak doesn't have real feelings; he just manipulates other people's."

John's head snapped up at this, swaying on his chair as he yelled "Hey! Leave off! Don't you come in here… with… with your…" He pointed and squinted at the Sargent as he cast about for the words eluding him. "…Your attitude and your… your nasty words!"

"Calm down John." Sherlock gently grabbed his flatmate's flailing arms and pulled them down in to his lap, then turned to give Sally a cold glare "You're not helping Sargent."

"Have you rung his sister? Maybe she could look after him for a few days?" Greg suggested, wanting to be helpful but the look of disgust he received from Sherlock told him that he'd said the wrong thing.

"That insipid alcoholic?..."

"Oi! That's my sister…" John began to protest weakly.

"She's hardly fit to look after herself! Besides, _I'm_ looking after John."

"Oh well…" Sally's voice was dripping with sarcasm "that's ok then… thank goodness he has a rude, self-obsessed psychopath to take care of him!"

Sherlock ignored Sally's comments and turned to his best friend, pulling him to his feet. "Come on John, you need to get back to bed."

Sherlock slipped an arm around John's waist to help him walk but he came over with a sudden dizzy spell and Greg had to step in and help again. Together they steered the wobbly doctor towards the stairs, virtually dragging him as they went.

"Sherlock… Sherlock…"John moaned breathlessly "Stop… can't… just sleep here." And with that he attempted to slide to the floor, taking his two friends with him.

Now in a heap on the floor, Sherlock turned to Greg seeking his help "Best not attempt the staircase, we'll put him in my room."

"Get up John, you can't stay here." Greg commanded in his most authoritative voice and gave the man a harsh tug upwards. "Up you come!"

All the DI got in response from John was a low moan while he resolutely kept his eyes closed and lolled his head on Sherlock's shoulder.

Sherlock felt John's fevered brow, hot and wet with sweat, and decided enough was enough. Putting one arm under John's knees and the other behind his back, with the help of Lestrade he hauled his friend up and carried him in to his bedroom.

"God you're heavy!" He exclaimed as he deposited John none too gently on to his bed. Greg helped Sherlock to rearrange the covers so that they could get him tucked in while John tried to speak, now slurring words in his fever induced state.

"What're you doing? Where are we?" John's hands started pushing at the duvet, struggling to get them off.

"This is my bedroom John and you are going to sleep now." Sherlock told him clearly while fighting for control of the duvet.

"What.. What?" John remained confused but finally allowed Sherlock to tuck him under the covers. "Why's Greg here?" he asked staring blearily up at the Detective Inspector.

"I came over with a case." He told the sick doctor gently.

John's face scrunched up looking perplexed. "But why are you in Sherlock's bedroom?"

Greg sighed "Helping you in to bed you daft sod."

"Why am I in Sherlock's bedroom?"

Greg turned his attention to the consulting detective exasperated. "I think I'll just go back to looking over the files and leave this to you."

Lestrade joined Sally in the living room again, where they could hear the muffled conversation coming from the bedroom.

_John: "Has Greg gone home?"_

_Sherlock: "Probably not. Lie back down John!"_

_John: "He should go home…"_

_Sherlock: "Stay there! You'll feel better if you get some rest."_

_John: "…It's better when it's just us. I'm hungry. Let's have dinner."_

_Sherlock: *sigh*_

_John: "Can we have takeaway?"_

_Sherlock: "I will get you something to eat and drink if you stay in bed and promise to sleep afterwards."_

From their vantage point on the floor, the pair observed Sherlock now bustling around the kitchen in an unusual display of domesticity, first clearing up the broken mug remains and putting some iced water and buttered toast on to a tray, before disappearing to deliver the goods to his sick flatmate.

When Sherlock returned he gracefully dropped to the floor and resumed analysing the photos scattered around him without even glancing at the pair from Scotland Yard.

Greg and Sally shared a look between them, then the DI cleared his throat before attempting to start a conversation with the consulting detective.

"Shh!" Sherlock interrupted pre-emptively.

Greg opened his mouth to speak but again Sherlock got there first "Thinking. Don't talk." He snapped.

They watched as Sherlock moved photos around and muttered quick deductions under his breath. Again Sally gave her boss the look that asked why they put up with his rude behaviour.

Lestrade whispered a reply to Sally's unspoken question "We need him on this case!"

"Can you two shut up!" Sherlock shouted angrily.

Greg and Sally rolled their eyes at each other but remained silent, pretending to go over the evidence again when in truth they had already exhausted all of their ideas on the case.

After a few minutes Sherlock moved to sit on the sofa with a thick pile of papers, breaking the silence by informing Greg of his deductions "The victim knows his kidnapper Lestrade, there's plenty of photographic evidence to support that supposition. I believe these interviews with his family may hold the key to breaking this case but it may take me a while to read them all. Go back to Scotland Yard, I'll contact you when I know who to search for."

"Why don't we help you go through the family members and their statements?" The DI suggested, then turned around as he heard John enter the sitting room again.

"Oh for goodness sake John, stay in bed!" Sherlock reprimanded him with his usual lack of patience.

John continued on his path without acknowledging anything said to him. He staggered up to the sofa, shaking with his arms wrapped around his chest, then plonked himself next to Sherlock.

"I'm c..cold." He murmured quietly, leaning against the detective.

Sherlock, with a resigned look on his face, reached behind him to pull out a blanket and adjusted John so that he was lying down on his side with his head in Sherlock's lap and his back to Lestrade and Donovan.

John protested at first but soon settled and closed his eyes, shivering and snuggling his face into Sherlock's stomach. Meanwhile Sherlock rested one hand gently on the doctor's shoulder and resumed silently reading through the family's statements.

Greg and Sally gave each other a look that said 'am I really seeing this?'

Once it became evident that Sherlock was going to stay silent for a long time, they continued reading statements and reviewing photos, waiting for the genius detective to enlighten them with his deductions.

After 20 minutes of silence from Sherlock, Greg decided to push the man for information and get this case going again. He was about to disturb the peace when he saw that Sherlock's left hand was entangled in the sandy blonde hair in his lap, slowly twirling it around his fingers, deep in thought. John was fast asleep, his deep breathing fairly noisy in the quiet flat.

He nudged Sally and her head popped up to follow his gaze towards the pair on the sofa. Her eyes went wide when she saw the affection being displayed by the apparently sociopathic detective.

Greg cleared his throat. "Er... Sherlock? Do you have anything for me? Any leads?"

"The nephew has a holiday home in Kent. I believe you will find your missing man there." Sherlock replied without looking up from the papers he was reading.

"Sherlock, how long have you known this?" Greg exclaimed, extremely annoyed.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Sally demanded.

"A man's life could be at stake and you couldn't be bothered to tell us where to find him!" Greg continued.

Finally Sherlock looked up and addressed the officers from Scotland Yard.

Sherlock took a deep breath "The missing man got his nephew deeply involved in a drug dealing ring as a way out of the crippling debt caused by his long-term TV shopping addiction. The nephew's girlfriend found out and subsequently left him, leading him to seek revenge from his irresponsible uncle who introduced him to the dangerous group of men now ruining his life."

Sally and Greg stared open-mouthed at the detective.

"How did you get all that from those statements?" Greg asked in disbelief.

"It's obvious isn't it?" Sherlock replied before his attention was taken by the sleepy doctor beginning to wake in his lap.

"Sherlock!" Greg shouted, becoming annoyed at the lack of detail forthcoming from the detective.

"Lestrade I'm going to have to ask you to keep it down, John needs to sleep." He stated calmly and quietly.

The two Scotland Yard officers gave loud sighs and paced around the living room in frustration.

"Right…" Greg brought his voice down a notch "Donovan, get on the phone to the team and tell them where to go. Let's find out if Sherlock's right."

"Of course I'm right."

The DI valiantly fought the urge to punch the aggravating man for his cockiness and instead started gathering up the files and papers scattered around the room while Sally phoned the Yard.

John stirred in to consciousness and looked up at his friend with uncomprehending eyes "Sherlock?" his voice sounded gravelly. "Why are there still people in our flat?"

Sherlock addressed Greg in his usual dismissive tone "Good question… I gave you the lead you needed Lestrade. Off you go."

"Alright alright, I'm just clearing up!" He replied tersely while he continued to scoop up the mess with Sally's help.

"Can you walk John? We should get you back to your bed." Sherlock asked tenderly.

"I'm comfy here thanks." John mumbled, snuggling back into the blanket.

Greg and Sally didn't miss the indulgent smile on Sherlock's face as he looked down at John and continued playing with his hair, either not noticing or not caring that he was being watched.

"You can go now Lestrade." The consulting detective's sharp voice cut through the silence.

"Yes, ok. We're off then."

"Text me with the outcome."

"Alright." Greg started backing out of the door feeling awkward as if he was intruding on a private moment. "Night Sherlock."

Of course Sherlock didn't respond and so Greg and Sally hurried down the stairs and back out in to the freezing night air where they gave each other a disturbed look.

"Well that was weirder than usual!" Sally exclaimed as she opened the car door.

"Agreed!" Greg climbed in to the driver's seat and slammed the door against the cold.

"Do you think something is going on there?" Sally asked curious.

"Between those two? Nah! John would have said something… surely?"

"Whatever it was, it was creepy. Never seen the freak act like that."

"Do you think it was an act?" Greg asked.

Sally shrugged and Greg turned his attention back to the road, eager to see if Sherlock's deductions proved correct.

**End of part one.**


	2. Chapter 2

John was now fully recovered and back at work for the first time after a week off. He was quite glad to be out of the flat to tell the truth, he definitely felt a bit of cabin fever creeping in over the last 2 days.

While eating a sandwich on his lunch break he checked his phone and found 4 text messages waiting for him.

*Are you alright? SH*

*Come home if you feel unwell. SH*

*Is there something you want to tell me John? Greg*

*Are you sure you should be back at work? SH*

John regarded the third text with confusion. Is there something I want to tell Greg? What the hell is he talking about? The doctor decided to address Sherlock first, before his friend felt compelled to visit him at the surgery to check on him (Sherlock had made a few fake appointments in the past in order to speak to him).

*I'm fine. See you at 6. JW*

To Lestrade he texted *What are you on about? JW*

He waited for a reply but didn't get one during his lunch break so put the phone away until the end of his shift.

On the tube was the next opportunity he had to check his messages and there was one from Greg.

*Is there something going on with Sherlock? Things seemed different when we came round the other day. Greg*

Obviously he couldn't reply as he was on the tube and signal is non-existent down there. John wasn't sure what he could say to that text anyway. He hadn't noticed Sherlock acting different to usual and he also didn't recall Greg coming round to the flat in the last week.

As he emerged out of the tube station and on to Baker Street he sent Greg another text.

*When did you come round to the flat? What seemed different? JW*

John's phone pinged with a text alert as he was sliding his key in to the front door. He paused at the bottom of the stairs to check the message, eager to understand what on earth Greg was trying to say.

*Donovan and I came round 4 nights ago. The two of you seemed closer than usual and we wondered if your relationship had changed. Greg*

WHAT?! John almost missed a step on the stairs in his surprise. He had to get to the bottom of this.

"Sherlock!"

"Yes John." His flatmate regarded him calmly from his usual position lying down on the sofa, as John burst through the door to the living room looking livid.

"Why is Lestrade texting me to ask if our relationship has changed?" he demanded loudly while standing over Sherlock's prone form.

"No idea."

"You must know. I don't know what he's going on about, I don't even remember him visiting 4 nights ago."

"You were sick John."

John continued to stand aggressively over his friend, arms folded and eyes glaring.

"That doesn't explain why Lestrade thinks something has changed between us."

"No but it does explain why you don't remember him coming over. You were quite out of it with a fever at the time."

"Sherlock!"

"Why are you angry with me? What have I done?" Sherlock looked genuinely puzzled but John's behaviour.

"That's what I want to know, what have you done?" John looked at him accusingly.

"That question is far too broad and could be taken in a variety of ways. I have done many things today and all through the week. To what are you referring?"

John groaned and spoke through his hands as they covered his face. "I don't know. I just know you must have done something to make Lestrade basically ask me if we are… you know… if we're … together."

"Why must it be something I've done? You're the one who can't recall his visit. How do you know it wasn't you who gave Lestrade the impression that we were lovers?"

John's brain stopped working at the word 'lovers'. He couldn't work out how to move the conversation any further, still convinced Sherlock must know something about Greg's text. To stall he checked his phone again and found another text waiting.

*It's all fine John. I'm not here to judge, I just thought you might have told me. Greg*

John sighed and allowed some of his annoyance to drain from him. Sherlock didn't appear to know any more than he did. Then again, he was a good actor, he had seen him put on a good show often enough.

He decided to have one last try. "You're sure you can't think of any reason why Lestrade might think… what he's thinking?"

"I really don't understand his text… or our conversation for that matter. I'd appreciate it if you would let me go back to my mind palace now."

"Yes, of course. Fine. Go back to your mind palace." John had calmed substantially now. "I'm just going to have a cup of tea."

"That seems wise." Sherlock replied and shut his eyes, relaxing in to his thinking pose again.

After sitting quietly with a cup of tea and some biscuits, John felt able to text Lestrade and ask him to meet him down the pub later. It didn't take long for the Detective Inspector to reply and they arranged to meet at 8:30pm in a pub near to Scotland Yard.

Later on in the bar, John approached Greg with some trepidation, not sure that he wanted to hear what the man had to say.

Handing him a pint, Greg smiled and politely asked John if his first day back at work went well.

"Yeah fine Greg, thanks. Though your texts sure shook up the afternoon."

"Ah… I'm sorry, I probably should have called rather than text." Greg answered abashed.

"Right, well do you think you could explain what you meant because I don't have a clue what's going on." John looked him straight in the eye, hoping to put an end to this madness.

Greg looked intrigued. "You don't know what I'm talking about?"

John shook his head and sipped his beer. "I really don't."

"When Sally and I came round the other night to get Sherlock's help on a kidnapping case…" he looked expectantly at the doctor.

John shook his head impatiently "Apparently so… and what?"

"You don't remember us coming round?"

"Sherlock says I had a fever so it's quite understandable."

"OK…" Greg hesitated, taking a drink from his beer while he wondered how to phrase it. "You two seemed very close…"

"Yeees…"

"You were lying down on the sofa with your head on Sherlock's lap while he stroked your hair 'til you fell asleep." Greg blurted out quite suddenly.

John almost choked on his drink at how unlikely that sounded. "You're joking!"

"God's honest truth John."

Many minutes of silence followed as Greg watched John stare in to space with a confused expression.

"John?"

"Hmmm?"

"You alright mate?"

John finally refocused his attention on the DI and nodded slowly. "You swear that's what happened?"

"Yeah… Sally and I thought you two must be… you know… together. I take it from your reaction that that's not the case."

"Er… no!" John said emphatically.

"Do you want to be with Sherlock?" Greg asked trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile behind his beer glass.

"Greg! Seriously… I was ill… and had a fever… and I don't even remember it." John downed the rest of his drink.

"Sherlock wasn't ill though." Greg commented with a smirk.

"Thanks for telling me but let's talk about something else now."

"Sure.. you want to meet here on Saturday to watch the game?"

"Yeah, that sounds good." John finally smiled, glad that the conversation was heading in another direction.

Greg smiled for totally different reasons.


	3. Chapter 3

Thunder broke overhead and big fat raindrops began pelting down on the men and women huddled around a body in Hyde Park. In the mud, in the middle of the crowd, lay a dead man in his late thirties, naked, bloody and beaten.

Several police officers scrambled to erect a tent over the crime scene as quickly as possible as the sudden thunder storm lashed down and ruined any evidence they might have found to explain the poor man's untimely demise.

Amidst the chaos stood Sherlock Holmes, apparently unaware of the sudden change in the weather, where he remained stock still and as focussed as always.

"Sherlock? Anything?" Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade asked with a hint of desperation in his voice.

The tall detective stayed silent, narrowing his eyes as he bent down to peer more closely at the dead man's neck.

"Sherlock?" Greg tried again. He looked to Doctor John Watson, crouching on the opposite side of the body, who simply shrugged and stood up before limping slightly toward him.

He looked very tired to Greg, which matched how he was feeling right now. The Yard had several big cases on at the moment and he felt stretched to the limit. The last thing he needed was for Sherlock to draw this out in order to put on a show for his captive audience.

Greg sighed heavily and shuffled his feet back and forth in the mud. The temperature had dropped very suddenly and the thunder storm was becoming louder and more vicious. The increased wind speed was whipping at the make-shift tent around the body, lifting and billowing with sudden gusts. The DI quickly instructed a few men to fasten the tent much more securely before turning his attention back to the silent head of dark curls almost level with the floor, oblivious to the mud underneath.

"What are you doing?" Yelled the inspector over the wind "And when are you going to include us in your famous deductions eh? I don't want to be here all night."

John started to become equally irritated with Sherlock, as he became more aware of his own discomfort resulting from a long shift at the surgery, a skipped lunch, no dinner and now the cold weather making his leg and shoulder ache.

Suddenly the consulting detective leapt up, hair wild from the wind and mud dripping from his precious coat. "Check the CCTV footage for that street over there and arrest the dog walkers who visited the café on the corner before accosting this jogger, dragging him in to those bushes, stripping him and beating him, then dumping the body here for all to see. VERY obvious really."

Sherlock strode past the man and out in to the rain shouting "Dinner John?"

John and Greg hurried to catch up with him as he marched towards the aforementioned café.

"Wait, Sherlock! You need to take me through this…" Greg called out as he got closer.

"Then join us in the café, John needs to eat."

John turned and raised his eyebrows at Greg, who huffed in response and swiftly entered the café behind him.

The three men shed their soaked coats and sank in to the soft seats at a vacant table. John lost no time in procuring a menu and deciding what he wanted before passing it to Greg "You hungry?"

"You obviously are." Greg replied unhappily; he didn't have time for this! Still, he needed to talk to Sherlock so he might as well grab a quick bite to eat.

"What can I get you gents?" a young man asked them pleasantly, notebook in hand.

"The gammon, egg and chips for me." Sherlock replied smoothly, fiddling with his fly-away hair until it sat more neatly on his head.

"Er… I'll have Cod and chips thanks." John instructed. "Ooh! And mushy peas if you have them!"

"Certainly sir. And for you?" the waiter turned to Lestrade.

"Just a cheese and ham toastie thanks."

"Drinks?"

"A tea and two coffees please." Sherlock ordered on their behalf.

"Excellent, coming right up!" the cheery waiter took their menus and disappeared off in to the kitchen.

"OK… can we NOW get back to explaining how and why there's a dead man in Hyde Park?" Greg demanded, staring Sherlock down as best he could.

"Really George, it's sooo simple." Sherlock replied looking bored. "A three at best. Are you really losing your touch so badly?" He started scratching at his arm where his nicotine patch was located… god he needed a cigarette.

"It's Greg…" the DI ground out. "… and if it is indeed so simple, why not enlighten the rest of us?"

Sherlock turned abruptly to the doctor. "John?"

"Hmm?" John looked surprised to suddenly be the centre of attention.

"Explain it to Lestrade ." he nodded in Greg's direction.

"Uhh.. the… the body." John stuttered. Sherlock nodded at him enthusiastically. "Well… the dog hairs were a dead give-away."

Sherlock looked at Greg with a smug expression.

"Um… the state of his feet tell us that he is a regular runner." John continued.

Sherlock maintained his silence, waiting for John to continue.

"And he had lots of little bits of foliage in his hair… hence the dragging in to the bushes deduction." John finished, staring at Sherlock for some indication that he had been right.

"Well done John, you observed more in 10 minutes than 8 officers from Scotland Yard did in half an hour." Sherlock beamed at his friend as the waiter set their drinks down in front of them.

"Oh yes… tea… the giver of life." John practically melted in to his cup in bliss, his pride over his correct deductions forgotten now he had his well-deserved drink.

"OK, what else?" Greg asked, convinced that Sherlock had picked up more.

"Oh I'm sure that's enough to be getting on with. Wouldn't want to deprive you of the satisfaction of figuring it all out." Sherlock replied cheekily and took a sip from his own cup.

"John?" Greg asked frustrated.

"Hey I'm not the world's only consulting detective. That's all I've got. Oh look, our food's ready. That was quick!"

Sherlock picked the tomatoes out of his side salad and threw them on to John's plate in apparent disgust, while John began digging in to his Cod and chips (with mushy peas of course) like a man who hadn't eaten in days.

"Busy day at the surgery?" Greg enquired politely of John.

"Obviously." Sherlock interrupted, simultaneously spooning some of John's mushy peas on to his own plate.

"Oi that's mine!" the doctor protested around a mouthful of chips.

"You never finish them anyway." His friend retorted and promptly swiped a chip through the pile of mushy goodness to show that he fully intended to keep the stolen food.

John didn't waste time on an argument that he wasn't going to win in favour of devouring his Cod at speed.

Sherlock smirked and got back to his own meal.

Greg just stared at the duo, his mind casting back to seeing Sherlock taking care of John two weeks ago. They worked so seamlessly together. He decided it would be a damn shame if they never got over themselves and just admitted that their regard for each other went beyond friendship.

"What?" John asked as Greg realised too late that he had been staring at him.

"Oh nothing…" The Detective Inspector replied defensively.

"Feeling better?" Sherlock asked John when he had finished his meal.

"Yeah, much better. I needed that, thanks." John sighed and leaned back with his cup of tea. "How was your gammon?"

"Good. Perfectly complimented by the mushy peas…" One corner of Sherlock's mouth twitched in amusement.

"Great… good I'm so glad you enjoyed my dinner." John teased, smiling fondly at his flatmate.

Greg got this odd feeling that he was intruding on a date. Sherlock was a different person around the doctor and it was somewhat off-putting and uncomfortable. John however was always nice, Sherlock was damn lucky to have him around. Certainly no-one else treated the apparent sociopath like a normal person, let alone with affection as John did.

Greg Lestrade excused himself from the table, citing police work that needed tending to. He did indeed get back to work afterwards but he was somewhat preoccupied by his observations of the crime-busting duo from Baker Street.

Could they be more than just friends? Hard to tell with John as he was open and friendly with everyone. Sherlock on the other hand displayed signs of affection and devotion towards John, the likes of which Greg had previously never witnessed from the detective.

Despite Sherlock's extremely anti-social and annoying behaviour, Greg did want to see the troubled man happy. He felt a sudden urge to do some match-making… maybe all they needed was a little nudge?


End file.
